Soraya's POV
By morning, the palace had returned to its carefully practiced rhythm.
Footsteps echoed through marble corridors. Servants moved with quiet efficiency. Guards resumed their posts as though a monster hadn't nearly torn through the forest only a day before.
And I went back to work.
As if nothing had happened.
I braided my hair neatly, tied my apron, and reported directly to Princess Seraphine's wing—head lowered, posture correct, voice steady. The ache in my body was gone now, the last remnants of pain sealed away beneath skin that bore no mark of what I'd endured.
Still, whispers followed me.
Not openly. Never boldly.
But I felt them—glances held a moment too long, conversations faltering when I passed, eyes scanning me with curiosity, suspicion, awe. The girl who had nearly died. The servant who'd survived an agor.
Again.
I pushed it all aside and focused on my duties.
